Showing posts with label George Heywood. Show all posts
Showing posts with label George Heywood. Show all posts

Sunday, December 31, 2017

I have been surveying most of the time for a month past and have associated with various characters.

December 31

P. M. —Surveying Goose Pond. 



After some rain yesterday and in the night, there was a little more snow, and the ground is still covered. 

I am surprised to find Walden still closed since Sunday night, notwithstanding the warm weather since it skimmed over, and that Goose Pond bears, though covered with slosh; but ice under water is slow to thaw. It does not break up so soon as you would expect. 

Walking over it, I thought that I saw an old glove on the ice or slosh, but, approaching, found it to be a bull frog, flat on its belly with its legs stretched out. Touching it, I found it to be alive, though it could only partially open its eyes, and it hung motionless and flimsy like a rag in my hands. It was evidently nearly chilled to death and could not jump, though there was then no freezing. I looked round a good while and finally found a hole to put it into, squeezing it through. 

Perhaps in such a warm rain the surface water becomes warmer than at the bottom, and so tempts the frogs up on to the ice through a hole. This one was wholly unscathed by any animal, but would surely have frozen stiff in the night. 

It is remarkable that in ordinary winter weather you will commonly find some of these small holes called air or breathing holes, in most ponds. But of whatever service they may be to the inhabitants of the water, they are not commonly formed by any undulation or upwelling from below, but as far as I have observed, by surface water flowing in through a crevice and wearing away the ice. 

Warm as it is, underneath all this slosh the ice seems as solid as ever. 

Under and attached to one of the lowermost branches of a white pine sapling in my old potato-field, I see a large hornet's nest, close to the ground.

I have been surveying most of the time for a month past and have associated with various characters: 

First there was Staples, quick, clear, downright, and on the whole a good fellow, especially good to treat with rougher and slower men than himself, always meaning well.

An Irishman, rather slow and dull but well-meaning.

A rustic innkeeper, evidently rather close-fisted. 

George Heywood, a quiet, efficient man, very gentlemanly and agreeable to deal with; no pretense nor bluster, but simple, direct, and even sweet. 

___ ___,  a crooked stick, not readily apprehending your drift, referring to old deeds or places which he can’t find, thinking he is entitled to many more acres than belong to him, but never leaving his work or his cattle to attend to you. To be found commonly in his barn, if you come upon him suddenly before he can hide. Has some complaint or injury which deforms him somewhat, — has crooked his body, so that when you meet him in the street he looks as if he was going across the road. 

Another Irishman, one of the worst of his race, full of blarney, one of the would-be gentlemen, who, when treated according to his deserts, having complained unreasonably of my price, apologizes by saying that he meant nothing. “What's the use of having a tongue in your head if you don’t use it?” 

A common specimen of the Yankee, who commonly answers me with “exactly” or “just so.” 

___ ___, who was so afraid he should lose some land belonging to him that, though he had employed Rice to survey his small wood-lot of three acres, within a year, he working two or three days at it and setting at least fifty stakes about it, having also two plans of it, yet, seeing that I had by chance set a stake a foot or two one side of his line, thought there was some mistake and would have me measure his lot anew. 

It was but little labor, the lines were so open, — for a path was actually worn round the whole lot. He appears to go round it every day or two. When I wanted a straight pole, he was very scrupulous not to cut it from his neighbor's side of the line.

He did not seem able to understand a plan or deed, and had sold some of his land because he did not know that he had a good title to it. Everything I told him about his deed and plan seemed to surprise him infinitely and make him laugh with excess of interest. When I pointed out anything in the plan, he did not look at it, only at my finger and at me, and took my word for it. 

I told him that I wondered his last surveyor had not set a stake and stone in one place, according to his plan and deed, a perfectly plain case, the stump of the pitch pine referred to being left. He said he didn’t want to make bounds, and asked me if I should have set it there, to which I answered, “Yes, of course,” that was what I had been doing all my life, making bounds, or rather finding them, remaking what had been unmade, where they were away. 

He listened to me as if I were an oracle. He did not in the least understand my instrument, or “spy-glass,” as he called it, but had full faith that it knew the way straight through the thickest wood to missing bounds. 

He was so deaf I had to shout to him, and there were two more in his house deafer than he, — and I think only one other. The passers-by commonly hear them talking to one another within. I could never communicate with him when setting a stake or carrying the chain but by signs, and must first get his at tention to the signs. This I accomplished, when he had hold of the chain, by giving it several smart jerks. 

When he paid me at his house, I observed that all his money was in silver. 

He said he told that we had been cutting off some of his land, and H said, "Is that right?” H has a good deal of large old wood which he will not cut. ___ ___says that he goes into it with his axe, and striking on an old tree says, “That ’s sound,” and so lets it stand, though when cut it turns out to be false-hearted. 

___ ___says that Rice worked two days on only two sides of his lot, but that he told him he would not charge him but two dollars if it took him a week. 

I found and used one of Rice’s poles, left on the ground all planed for the purpose, for he worked not without tools.

H. D. Thoreau,  Journal, December 31, 1857

Surveying Goose Pond.
 See Concord Library, Plan of the Goose Pond & Walden Pond Woodlots (so called) Belonging to the Heirs of John Richardson, Jr Esq ...Nov. & Dec. 1857

I am surprised to find Walden still closed since Sunday night, notwithstanding the warm weather since it skimmed over. See December 31, 1850 ("Walden pond has frozen over since I was there last.”); December 31, 1853 ("Walden froze completely over last night. It is, however, all snow ice, as it froze while it was snowing hard, and it looks like frozen yeast somewhat.”); see also December 21, 1857 (" Walden and Fair Haven,. . .have only frozen just enough to bear me, “); December 27, 1857("Walden is almost entirely skimmed over. It will probably be completely frozen over to-night”) and A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, Annual ice-in at Walden

I am surprised to find . . .  Goose Pond bears, though covered with slosh.   See (December 27, 1857 ("Goose Pond is not thickly frozen yet . . .in many places water has oozed out and spread over the ice, mixing with the snow and making dark places.”) See also December 4, 1853 ("Goose Pond apparently froze over last night, all but a few rods, but not thick enough to bear.”)

After some rain yesterday and in the night, there was a little more snow, and the ground is still covered.
See A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, The weather, New Year's Eve

It was evidently nearly chilled to death and could not jump. I looked round a good while and finally found a hole to put it into, squeezing it through. See  April 2, 1857 (" I see a toad, which apparently hopped out from under a fence last evening, frozen quite hard in a sitting posture. Carried it into Boston in my pocket, but could not thaw it into life. "); See also April 22, 1857 (“Near Tall's Island, rescue a little pale or yellowish brown snake that was coiled round a willow half a dozen rods from the shore. ”);  June 6, 1856 (“In the large circular hole or cellar at the turntable on the railroad, which they are repairing, I see a star-nosed mole endeavoring in vain to bury himself in the sandy and gravelly bottom. Some inhuman fellow has cut off his tail. I carry him along to plowed ground, where he buries himself in a minute or two.”); May 19, 1856 ("Saw a small striped snake in the act of swallowing a Rana palustris . . .. The snake, being frightened, released his hold, and the frog hopped off to the water. "); August 23, 1851 ("[ A snake] had a toad in his jaws, which he was preparing to swallow with his jaws distended to three times his width, but he relinquished his prey in haste and fled"); July 23, 1856 ("Saw . . . a small bullfrog in the act of swallowing a young but pretty sizable apparently Rana palustris, . . . I sprang to make him disgorge, but it was too late to save him. ")

I see a large hornet's nest, close to the ground. See December 29, 1856 (“By Nut Meadow Brook, just beyond Brown's fence crossing, I see a hornets' nest about seven inches in diameter on a thorn bush, only eighteen inches from the ground.”); December 29, 1858 ("A large hornets’ nest thirty feet high on a maple over the river.”) See also  October 25, 1854 ("The maples being bare, the great hornet nests are exposed.”); October 15, 1855 ("The hornets’ nests are exposed, the maples being bare, but the hornets are gone”) and  A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau. Wasps and Hornets

December 31, 2017

Monday, December 25, 2017

I find the true line.

December 25.  

Surveying for heirs of J. Richardson, G. Heywood and A. Brooks accompanying.

Skate on Goose Pond. 

Heywood says that some who have gone into Ebby Hubbard's barn to find him have seen the rats run over his shoulders, they are so familiar with him. This because I stopped to speak with Hubbard in his barn about bounds. 

I find the true line between Richardson and Mrs. Bigelow, which Captain Hubbard overlooked in 1840, and yet I find it by his own plan of 1827. Bigelow had set a split stone far into Richardson. After making the proper allowance for variation since 1827, I set my stake exactly on an old spotted line, which was overlooked in 1840 and is probably as old as the survey of ’27, or thirty years. It is on good-sized white pines, and is quite distinct now, though not blazed into the wood at first. 

It would not be detected unless you were looking for it.

H. D. Thoreau, JournaL December 25, 1857

I find the true line between Richardson and Mrs. Bigelow. See November 30, 1857 ("Northwest of Little Goose Pond, on the edge of Mrs. Bigelow's wood-lot are several hornbeams . . .”)

Sunday, April 30, 2017

At Goose Pond.

April 30. 

Thursday. A. M. — Surveying for Farrar and Heywood by Walden. 

Hear a kingfisher at Goose Pond. 

Hear again the same bird heard at Conantum April 18th, which I think must be the ruby-crowned wren. 

As we stood looking for a bound by the edge of Goose Pond, a pretty large hawk alighted on an oak close by us. It probably has a nest near by and was concerned for its young. 

The larch plucked yesterday sheds pollen to-day in house, probably to-day abroad. 

Balm-of-Gilead plucked yesterday, not yet (nor on May 1st) in house.

H. D. Thoreau, Journal April 30, 1857

Hear a kingfisher at Goose Pond. See April 23, 1854 (“A kingfisher with his crack, — cr-r-r-rack.”); April 24, 1854 ("The kingfisher flies with a crack cr-r-r-ack and a limping or flitting flight from tree to tree before us ”) See also A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau. The Kingfisher

Hear again the same bird heard at Conantum April 18th, which I think must be the ruby-crowned wren. See April 26, 1860 ("Hear the ruby-crowned wren in the morning, near George Heywood’s.”); May 6, 1855 ("Hear at a distance a ruby(?)-crowned wren, so robin-like and spirited. After see one within ten . . . feet of me as if curious. I think this the only Regulus I have ever seen.”); see also note to April 20, 1859 ("My ruby-crowned or crested wren”).  See also A Book of the Seasons,  by Henry Thoreau: the ruby-crowned or crested wren. and  A Book of the Seasons,  by Henry Thoreau, Winter Birds

It probably has a nest near by . . . See note to April 30, 1855 ( It must have a nest there. “)

The larch plucked yesterday sheds pollen to-day See .
April 27, 1856 (The female flowers are now fully expanded and very pretty, but small. I think it will first scatter pollen to-morrow. ");April 29, 1855 ("The crimson female flowers are now handsome but small. ") and note to May 1, 1856 ("I judge that the larch blossomed ...”). See also A Book of Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, the Larch


Monday, April 26, 2010

April snow


April 26

Hear the ruby-crowned wren in the morning, near George Heywood's.

We have had no snow for a long long while, and have about forgotten it. Dr. Bartlett, therefore, surprises us by telling us that a man came from Lincoln after him last night on the wheels of whose carriage was an inch of snow, for it snowed there a little, but not here. This is connected with the cold weather of yesterday; the chilling wind came from a snow-clad country. 

As the saying is, the cold was in the air and had got to come down.

To-day it is 53° at 2 P. M., yet cold, such a difference is there in our feelings. What we should have called a warm day in March is a cold one at this date in April. It is the northwest wind makes it cold. Out of the wind it is warm. It is not, methinks, the same air at rest in one place and in motion in another, but the cold that is brought by the wind seems not to affect sheltered and sunny nooks.

P. M. – To Cliffs and Well Meadow.

Comptonia.

There are now very few leaves indeed left on the young oaks below the Cliffs. Sweet-briar, thimble-berry, and blackberry on warm rocks leaf early.

Red maples are past prime. I have noticed their handsome crescents over distant swamps commonly for some ten days. At height, then, say the 21st. They are especially handsome when seen between you and the sunlit trees.

The Amelanchier Botryapium is leafing; will apparently bloom tomorrow or next day.

Sweet-fern (that does not flower) leafing.

The forward-rank sedge of Well Meadow which is so generally eaten (by rabbits, or possibly woodchucks), cropped close, is allied to that at Lee's Cliff, which is also extensively browsed now. I have found it difficult to get whole specimens. Certain tender early greens are thus extensively browsed now, in warm swamp-edges and under cliffs, — the bitter cress, the Carex varia (?) at Lee's, even skunk-cabbage. \

The hellebore now makes a great garden of green under the alders and maples there, five or six rods long and a foot or more high.

False Hellebore. April 28, 2019
It grows thus before these trees have begun to leaf, while their numerous stems serve only to break the wind but not to keep out the sun. It is the greatest growth, the most massive, of any plant's; now ahead of the cabbage. Before the earliest tree has begun to leaf it makes conspicuous green patches a foot high.

The river is exactly at summer level.


H. D. Thoreau, Journal, April 26, 1860


Hear the ruby-crowned wren in the morning.  See May 6, 1855 (“Dark bill and legs, apparently dark olivaceous ashy head, a little whitish before and behind the full black eyes, ash breast, olive-yellow on primaries, with a white bar, dark tail and ends of wings, white belly and vent. Did not notice vermilion spot on hindhead. It darts off from apple tree for insects like a pewee, and returns to within ten feet of me as if curious. I think this the only Regulus I have ever seen.”). See also note to April 20, 1859 ("My ruby-crowned or crested wren”). See also A Book of the Seasons,  by Henry Thoreau: the ruby-crowned or crested wren.

It snowed there a little, but not here. The chilling wind came from a snow-clad country. See April 4, 1859 ("When I look with my glass, I see the cold and sheeny snow still glazing the mountains. This it is which makes the wind so piercing cold."); April 12, 1855 ("The mountains are again thickly clad with snow, and, the wind being northwest, this coldness is accounted for.")

Chilling wind came from a snow-clad country. As the saying is, the cold was in the air and had got to come down. See April 2, 2019, overheard in the hospital waiting room ("the air won’t be warm, my father slways said, until they get the snow out of the mountains")

What we should have called a warm day in March is a cold one at this date in April. See February 8, 1860 (40° and upward may be called a warm day in the winter"):  March 20, 1855 (“It is remarkable by what a gradation of days which we call pleasant and warm, beginning in the last of February, we come at last to real summer warmth. At first a sunny, calm, serene winter day is pronounced spring, or reminds us of it; and then the first pleasant spring day perhaps we walk with our greatcoat buttoned up and gloves on.”); April 25 1860 ("A cold day, so that the people you meet remark upon it, yet the thermometer is 47° at 2 P. M. We should not have remarked upon it in March. It is cold for April, being windy withal.")

I have noticed their handsome crescents over distant swamps commonly for some ten days. They are especially handsome when seen between you and the sunlit trees. See April 26, 1855 ("The blossoms of the red maple (some a yellowish green) are now most generally conspicuous and handsome scarlet crescents over the swamps"). See also April 24, 1854 ("The first red maple blossoms — so very red over the water — are very interesting. ");April 24, 1857 ("I see the now red crescents of the red maples in their prime . . . above the gray stems."); April 28, 1855 ("The red maples, now in bloom, are quite handsome at a distance over the flooded meadow beyond Peter’s. The abundant wholesome gray of the trunks and stems beneath surmounted by the red or scarlet crescents.”); April 29, 1856 ("How pretty a red maple in bloom (they are now in prime), seen in the sun against a pine wood") and A Book of the Seasons,  by Henry Thoreau, The Red Maple


The hellebore now makes a great garden of green under the alders and maples there, five or six rods long and a foot or more high . .It is the greatest growth, the most massive, of any plant's; now ahead of the cabbage. Before the earliest tree has begun to leaf it makes conspicuous green patches a foot high. See  March 25, 1860 (“The skunk-cabbage leaf-buds have just begun to appear, but not yet any hellebore.”); April 2, 1856 (“The plaited buds of the hellebore are four or five inches high.”); April 10, 1859 (“The hellebore buds are quite conspicuous and interesting to-day, but not at all unrolled, though six or eight inches high. ”); April 17, 1852 (" The leaves of the Veratrum viride, American hellebore, now just pushing up.");  April 22, 1856 (“Some hellebore leaves are opened in the Cliff Brook Swamp.”); May 2, 1855 ("Hellebore seems a little later than the cabbage."); May 13, 1855 ("The brook in Yellow Birch Swamp is very handsome now — broad and full, with the light-green hellebore eighteen inches high and the small two-leaved Solomon’s-seal about it, in the open wood.”); June 12, 1853 ("Visited the great [purple fringed] orchis which I am waiting to have open completely. . . .  Its great spike, six inches by two, of delicate pale-purple flowers, which begin to expand at bottom, rises above and contrasts with the green leaves of the hellebore and skunk-cabbage and ferns (by which its own leaves are concealed) in the cool shade of an alder swamp.");  June 27, 1854 ("
Hellebore in full bloom; how long? For the most part does not bloom. "); August 23, 1858 (“I see . . . in swamps, the withering and blackened skunk-cabbage and hellebore, and, by the river, the already blackening pontederias and pipes. There is no plateau on which Nature rests at midsummer, but she instantly commences the descent to winter.”); August 30, 1859 (“The plants now decayed and decaying and withering are those early ones which grow in wet or shady places, as hellebore, skunk-cabbage, . . . and how is it with trilliums and arums? ”)


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